


Overwhelmed

by Stranded_In_The_Cosmos



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A very feeling filled fic, Crowley is a good comforter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Not all of him but a lot of feelings, Overwhelmed Aziraphale, Panic Attacks, Post-Lockdown Video, Self-projection into Aziraphale, a lot of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stranded_In_The_Cosmos/pseuds/Stranded_In_The_Cosmos
Summary: Too much.Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t be so affected. It was just another bad year, just another one. He had been through many bad years, worst than this year in fact, though he tried not to think about his overreactions then, so there was no reason to be hurting as much as he did.He had tried to make it without Crowley, assuring himself that the demon was doing overall good by staying home, and that he could manage this horrible helplessness himself.But he couldn’t, it was too much, he called Crowley after a week.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 134





	Overwhelmed

**Author's Note:**

> So if I’m honest I just needed some Aziraphale getting overwhelmed and Crowley comforting him because would you look at the state of the world. Writing is my coping mechanism. Self-Projection abound, pls don’t @ me I just work here.

_Too much._

Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t be so affected. It was just another bad year, just another one. He had been through many bad years, worst than this year in fact, though he tried not to think about his *overreactions then, so there was no reason to be hurting as much as he did. 

He had tried to make it without Crowley, assuring himself that the demon was doing overall good by staying home, and that he could manage this horrible helplessness himself. 

But he couldn’t, it was too much, he called Crowley after a week. 

“C-Crowley, I-I need you,” Aziraphale’s voice sounded broken and weak, and was on the verge of tears.

“Shit, angel, breathe,” There was the sound of quick-paced steps as Crowley ran out of his flat. “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

Aziraphale had tried breathing, but his lungs had thought it swell to not allow air. “I-I’m sorry Crowley, I’m-I’m sorry, I tried, it’s too much,” 

“Angel, breathe,” There was the sound of Crowley’s car starting up and tearing out of where ever it was parked. “I need you to tell me, are you hurt, did someone hurt you?”

“N-No,” Aziraphale finally says. “It’s too much, Crowley,” 

“It’s okay, or it’s going to be okay, I’m coming, just breathe, that’s all you need to do, breathe,” Crowley spoke softly, as if Aziraphale would break if he spoke to loud, and maybe he was right. “Just breathe with me, angel,” 

Aziraphale somehow draws a wheezing breath. He doesn’t know why it’s like that, there’s no reason he can think of, of course, other than the fact any organ in his human body needed for breathing seems to have been stomped flat. 

Crowley breathes after him, making it heard across the phoneline. But Aziraphale can’t hear the car, so he doesn’t breath and instead tries to begin questioning why, but the door slams open from across the shop. 

Crowley runs in, hair at his shoulders, a fluffy tangled and beautifully wispy mess, sunglasses nowhere to be seen and amber eyes dripping gold and wide. He wasn’t even in possession of his normal attention grabbing attire, just a shirt and pants. Even his scale shoes-feet were only half formed. 

Aziraphale almost regrets it, he’s a pathetic crumpled ball on the floor, and here’s Crowley, waken from a perfectly nice nap by the angel, all because they couldn’t handle it. He made Crowley worry so much, that he hadn’t even spared a miracle to dress himself. 

But he can’t bring himself to, because even just sitting across from Crowley, he feels better, he’s breathing ever so slightly easier, but he can’t help the guilt he feels. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale feels tears run down his face in relief, and as the feeling pulls him back into it’s briny black depths. 

Crowley scoops Aziraphale into his arms, not knowing how he knows Aziraphale needs this but doing it all the same.

He carries Aziraphale up to his, well it’s really theirs at this point, and sits so that Aziraphale can straddle him and wrap around his thin torso. 

And as Aziraphale inhales, smelling the comfort and home of Crowley’s scent, and feels a small wave of okay, he feels all at once panicked and begins sobbing. 

Crowley hummed and pulled Aziraphale close. “It’s okay, angel, I’m here, nothing’s gonna happen, I’m here,” 

Aziraphale let every wave of it wash over, not fighting the current, not letting it drag him down, the firm touch of Crowley’s hands rubbing patterns into his back reminding him that there would be air when he surfaced. 

At some point, his sobs subsided and he felt, strangely better. Not hollow or aching, just, lighter. 

“Doing okay?” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Aziraphale thought a moment, and said, “Everything was too much,” 

“Overstimulated?” Crowley queried, knowing his angel’s history of it. 

“No, just, it’s been so dreadful this year, with the mess Pestilence is causing and Pollution’s work, not to mention the others, and the humans can’t seem to just to get along, it can’t be that hard, can it?” Aziraphale asked with a hint of desperation. “Whole bloody mess, and no one knows when it’s going to get better, and no one knows how to actually fix things without making it worse, there’s so much dread,” 

“Hm, s’bad for angels, dread, malice, bad stuff, right?” Crowley asked. 

“Well, I haven’t seen it affect the other angels, and I know there’s been bad years, worse than this, but it feels so heavy-” 

Crowley gently kisses him in interruption. 

“I think, the angels up there aren’t down here enough to feel it,” Crowley said. “Or they don’t care, but you do. And yeah, there’s been really bad years, 14th century?” A grimace comes from Aziraphale. “Yeah, but this is still bad. Youngins and oldies can’t agree at all, the four, er, five horsemen are having a blast, the governments seem to be going to shit,” Aziraphale almost begs Crowley to stop because he can’t bear thinking of it again. “But,” Crowley starts. “It’s all happened before, and you’ve made it before, and it’s gonna suck, but you’re gonna make it. I’ll be here too,” 

Aziraphale sags in relief, and drapes across Crowley. 

“Thank you,” 

“Don’t mention it,” 

* * *

*Note from God Herself, these were In fact not overreactions. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! If you can leave a comment, it would kill me with affection. This was written by a writer who was very stressed out by the world of 2020, and I know others are as well. If you need anyone to talk to, my dms will always be open @themostdangerousthingistolove on tumblr.


End file.
